One Country, One King
by ancazur
Summary: All of Daein comes out to celebrate Charter Day, and five-year-old Zihark is proud to boast of his Daein pride at this year's parade. He learns more about his country than he had known, and meets people he never thought he would've met.


_Birthday gift fic for krad-eelav :)_

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All down the street, the children could hear their mothers shouting as they bolted from their homes. _Put on your shoes! _or _Wait for your father!_ But the children were all together, so they were safe. And today it was okay, because it was Charter Day, the anniversary of their glorious country's formation.

_And_ there was a parade.

Zihark bustled toward the main road with the other children, not a parent among them. He pushed to the front of the pack; this was _his_ year to stand in front. Last year he had been only four years old, practically a _baby_, sitting on his father's shoulders as they watched. But _now_ he could be on his own, and he could cheer for King Daein and the military and the performers who would pass by, and he hoped they would be handing out candies like they did last year. He craned his neck to peer down the road. _He could see them_. They were marching from Daein Keep in a long, winding procession. The militia came first, their black armor glinting in the early-morning sunlight. A collective cheer rose from the spectators, and Zihark joined them. He couldn't distinguish his own voice; it blended with the surrounding children's. He bounced on his toes as they cheered louder.

"There's my daddy!" a nearby girl cried, pointing upward. Zihark looked up at a fleet of dracoknights hovering overhead. He squinted, noticing the guy in front waving to the crowd. The redheaded girl squealed, raising her arms upward, like Daddy could reach down and grab her from way up high. Zihark wanted to believe that he could. Anything was possible on Charter Day.

Foot soldiers passed right before their faces, their heavy steps marching in perfect synchronicity. "Glory to Daein!" they roared, the audience immediately echoing.

"Glory to Daein!" Zihark cried, loud as he could, stretching his arms out to the soldiers.

He watched in awe as the military passed, followed by a group of jugglers. Dancers twirled behind them, their flowing silk scarves trailing behind. He wanted to avert his eyes—_they hardly wore any clothes at all!_—but they were so pretty, and they smiled at him so kindly, that he clapped until his hands hurt.

As another performance troupe passed, Zihark glanced around. The unsupervised children were up front, reaching out and cheering for the parade. He nearly missed a performer handing out sweets, and quickly snapped to attention to receive his share. He popped the candy into his mouth, the tang of honey assaulting his taste buds. But he had definitely taken note of a fellow spectator across the way, who didn't seem like he—or she?—was paying much attention. He wore a heavy cloak, his face partially hidden by a hood, but it was far too warm to be wearing something like that. Zihark stared, trying to get his attention, but it felt like the other purposely ignored him. But suddenly people were murmuring around him, hooting and hollering and laughing as they slung profanities at each other. Zihark looked up just as two soldiers passed by, a heavy pole balanced on their shoulders that was skewered with a dead subhuman.

"Death to subhumans!" the spectators cried.

Zihark has definitely _seen_ a subhuman before, but not like this. Not _dead_. It was weird. He _looked_ like a human, with human clothes and everything, but he was really hairy. And he had cat ears, like the strays that wandered the village, and a tail that dragged on the ground below him.

_Death to subhumans!_

The children all pointed and laughed, echoing the cries of the adults. Zihark looked up at the hooded figure, curious if he, too, joined in the banter, but couldn't find him. He frowned, glancing around in case he had moved, but the cloak was nowhere in sight. He waited until there was a gap in the procession, then bolted across the road.

"You can't do that, kid!" someone called out, but he ignored it. He tried to push through the densely-packed mob of Daeins, but he couldn't find space to squeeze through.

A nearby adult leaned forward, accidentally nudging Zihark in the shoulder and knocking him off-balance. "Look," the man cried, "it's the Four Riders!"

He whipped around. The Riders were approaching, each clad in black armor atop a black steed. He almost forgot about his cloaked friend entirely. His mouth gaped open as he watched the dignified black horses approach. A lady beside him was swooning, overexaggerating as she fanned herself. "That one can come home with me," she said, giggling.

But Zihark ignored the surrounding chatter, stepping farther into the road. He stared up at the passing Riders. The horses clopped together in step, and each Rider had an elaborate sword sheathed at his side. They surveyed the masses, keeping one hand on their hilts, a small smile playing at their lips. _These_ were the protectors of Daein. A gift from Ashera herself.

"Hey, kid," a man said, placing his big hand atop Zihark's head. "Can you name 'em all?"

"Of course," he boasted, puffing out his chest. He wasn't sure who was who, but maybe the guy wouldn't ask. "_Bryce, Tauroneo, Gawain, and Lanvega; Four Riders of Daein, one country, one king_." He knew the song by heart. At least, the first line.

The man smiled at him, finishing the song. "_While they bear our banner, a free Daein shall sing_." It didn't matter that Zihark didn't know who the man ruffling his hair was. They were _all_ Daein, and today they were all comrades. One country, one king.

He knew that King Daein would be fast approaching in the parade. But he still hadn't found the cloaked boy, and he was still determined. If he waited until the end, there would be people everywhere. Zihark stayed until he caught a glimpse of the king—his crown was visible over the hill as he started to wave—then ducked through the densely-packed horde of Daeins. A cloaked person couldn't be that hard to find. _Unless he took off the cloak_, he thought, but knew that was unlikely. This person had a secret, and he needed to know what it was.

He jogged parallel to the parade line as he scoured the crowd for the cloak. Zihark's thighs burned as he ran, sweat beading on his forehead as the sun climbed higher. He briefly considered giving up and going back to the parade. What were the chances of finding _one_ person in this mass of citizens? But then he spotted it. If he hadn't been wearing the cloak Zihark wouldn't have noticed from this distance, but he was definitely walking away from the parade. He jogged to catch up.

"Hey!" he called out, panting as he got closer. "Hey, wait!"

The person turned. He lifted his head slightly to Zihark's voice; green eyes were barely visible from beneath the hood. But he didn't say anything. He just stared.

"Why are you leaving early?" Zihark asked between gulps of air, trying to catch his breath. "We're missing the king! That's the best part."

The cloaked figure hesitated, then turned to rush down the road.

"Wait up!" Zihark reached for his shoulder, but grabbed a fistful of cloak instead and pulled off his hood.

_Her_ hood.

She yelped, grabbing at the hood to throw it back over her head.

Those had been _cat ears_.

"Leave me alone!" she shrieked, covering her face.

"Wait!" He crouched, prepare to run after her, but she didn't flee. Instead he circled around, trying to sneak a look beneath the hood. Pop always said you should make eye contact when speaking to someone. It showed strength, but this girl was making it hard for him to prove how strong he was. "It's okay."

"No, it's not!"

Zihark didn't move; he had nothing else to say. She lifted her head slightly, staring at him with those brilliant green eyes. "Well, go ahead," she snapped.

He blankly stared. "With what?"

"Your name calling! _Stupid subhuman; get out of our country. Glory to Daein!_" She flapped her wrists, as if he were a pesky insect."Get it over with."

Zihark frowned. He took one step closer, both surprised and relieved when she didn't back away. She bit down on her quivering bottom lip. "I'm not gonna say all that." He looked around; no one was nearby. There was no chance of anyone overhearing. "It's not nice," he whispered.

Slowly, she stood upright. Zihark could now see the full of her face. He wasn't used to seeing face marks—especially up close—and there was green fur where his pop had sideburns. But she was _pretty_.

The cheers of the crowd were starting to fade. The parade was over, and he would be expected home soon. He cleared his throat. "I'm Zihark," he said, holding out a hand. "What's your name?"

She stared at that hand for a moment, then _laughed_. It wasn't a mean laugh, but he wasn't sure what was so funny. They shook, and she smiled. "There's time enough for that," she said, almost playfully. "How old are you, Zihark?"

"Five." He held up his hand, all five fingers splayed.

She lowered her voice, even though no one was around to hear. "Don't let these Daein dogs tell you what to believe," she whispered. "You'll be a good man."

"How old are _you_?" he asked. If she wouldn't share her name, she could share _something_.

Instead, she sighed. "Laguz age much differently than beorc."

_Laguz._ He had never heard anyone use the word in such a nice tone of voice. Immediately, he knew that she wouldn't like it if he said _subhuman_. He tried his hardest not to say the word at all, and he would try not to use it ever again. "I don't care," he said. "I'd like to be your friend."

Far behind them, the end of the parade route was breaking up. King Daein was being escorted back to the palace, and the Four Riders were saying their farewells before dispersing to the edges of the country. Suddenly, Zihark could feel the increasing vibration of hooves on the road, and he pulled his new friend off to the side. A black steed passed and they both stared up at the Rider, who nodded to them.

But the Rider stopped short, looking over his shoulder at the children. They still stared up at him; Zihark couldn't wipe the awe-struck look from his face.

"General Gawain," the laguz girl said, bowing low to the ground. Zihark gasped, then quickly followed suit. His head was lowered and his forehead nearly touched the dirt, so he didn't understand when the general started to chuckle. Was a Rider of Daein _laughing _at them? He lifted his eyes slightly, and General Gawain smirked. He motioned for them to rise. Zihark stood bolt upright, his arms pressed to his sides. The general was still majestic this up-close, but he was also… human. His mouth were smiling, but his eyes looked sad. The laguz girl stood, tugging down at the cloak so the hood wouldn't fall off.

"Do not lose sight of your principles," General Gawain said, as they both stared at him. "Do not let others define you." He looked straight at Zihark, his stare burning through him, like he could read everything in his mind. Then his gaze lingered on the girl. "You are the future of Daein. May your future shine bright."

"Yes, sir!" They both proclaimed, their chins jutting out as they raised their heads higher. General Gawain glanced at the girl again before nodding to them both, pulling on the reins to guide his horse down the path.

"He knew," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat, as they watched the general gallop away. "And he didn't say anything."

Zihark reached out to grab for her hand. "Come on." She stared at their entwined hands, swallowing hard, but he didn't let go. "It's okay. We can play at my house. You can meet my mum and pop!" She stood motionless, shaking her head, listening to the distant sound of General Gawain's horse. _Do not let others define you_. Eventually she nodded, advancing forward to follow Zihark home.


End file.
